


to teach the torches to burn bright

by MelikaElena



Category: The 100
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, Romeo and Juliet AU, Secret dating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-03 01:46:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelikaElena/pseuds/MelikaElena
Summary: Nate looked over at Monty, who smiled at him. “We can go back if you want,” he said softly.“No,” Nate said lowly. Alone time with Monty-- nothing sounded more appealing. “No, this is perfect.”Monty’s smile widened. “Yeah,” he said. “It really is, isn’t it?”Nathan Miller and Monty Green fall for the one person they can never be with. Romeo & Juliet AU.





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennycaakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/gifts).



> I don't normally write Secret Dating fic and that's because I can never decide what the MOTIVES are, because hell, if I was either Monty Green OR Nathan Miller, you can bet your ass I would be bragging to the entire fucking world that I had a cute-ass boyfriend like them. 
> 
> So of course the stakes had to be HIGH, so what gets more Secret Dating than Romeo & Juliet? Rest assured, our boys will get a happy ending because have you met me? (As I told Jenn, "I'm not a fucking writer for t100.") 
> 
> Happy Birthday, Jenn! I hope you have a wonderful, wonderful day. You deserve it.

**i.**

As usual, Bellamy was complaining.

 

“You can’t just use Tinder like the rest of us?” Bellamy asked irritably, adjusting his mask.

 

Nate scoffed. “As if you’ve ever used Tinder in your life, Old Man,” he said, looking at himself in the mirror. The Robin Hood costume was sort of uninspired, but it was all they had left at the costume store in his size, and it _did_ look good on him, so that was something. “And if you think I’m giving up my one opportunity to get into Bryan Farmer’s pants, you’re dead wrong.”

 

“Better wrong than dead,” Bellamy said, shaking his head. “Because is your high school crush’s dick worth incurring the wrath of the Green family?”

 

“That’s what the masks are for,” Nate reminded him, “And that’s what I’m hoping to find out.”

 

“If your dad knew,” Bellamy warned.

 

“Dad’s at another meeting tonight,” Nate said. “He won’t know. I’ve thought of everything, okay? So you can stop worrying, and, here’s a concept! Have _fun_.”

 

Bellamy was Nate’s best friend, although technically he was also something like a bodyguard, employed by Nate’s father to protect him. Nate had always hated it, hated the idea that Bellamy was putting himself on the line to keep _him_ safe, but he also knew that the job paid well, and the fact that David Miller didn’t have to worry about Bellamy’s loyalty meant that he paid him even more for it, which in turn meant that Bellamy could easily support both himself and his sister. Nate was a dick, but he wasn’t going to tell Bellamy to turn down a good job because it made him uncomfortable. Bellamy made his own choices, and Nate respected that. In turn, for the most part, Bellamy reciprocated, even if said choices included sneaking into a masquerade party thrown by the sworn enemies of his father.

 

The Miller’s and the Green’s hadn’t always been at war with each other; Nate even remembered being a small child, having dinners at the Green’s lush estate as his parents spoke about business with the Green’s. They were competitors in many ways, sure, but they were equals, and pillars in their community.

 

But then Christopher Green and Julia Miller died.

 

They died at separate times, but both were accidents, and only six months apart, first Christopher, and then Julia. Hannah Green, his wife, had, to everyone’s shock, accused the Miller’s of orchestrating Christopher’s death, as he had just been about to close a lucrative deal that would propelled the Green family to new heights. Even more damning, Hannah claimed that she had evidence that indicated the Miller’s were at fault-- not enough for the police to get involved, not enough for them to _prove_ anything, but just enough that in her mind, the Miller’s were guilty, and when Julia died six months later, everyone cried revenge, including David Miller. To say that put an end to business dinners and running around the estate with the Green children was an understatement. They had been at war ever since, and that war wasn’t confined to board rooms and country clubs.

 

Nate knew that his family’s business wasn’t always above board, and neither was the Green’s, but after the deaths of their respective matriarch and patriarch, things got uglier, deadlier. The city of Arkadia was divided, invisibly yet geographically, almost cleanly in half, and this was the first time Nate was daring to cross the other side since he was a teenager. According to Bellamy, who’d stayed and gone to college in the city, things had only gotten worse since Nate left. His father was desperate to send him far away for college, and obligingly, Nate left, and had even stayed away for a couple more years after, deciding to get an MFA in Poetry. He knew eventually he would take over the family business, but figured this would be the one time in his life that he got to do something for himself.

 

And, okay, maybe sneaking out to the Green’s Annual Masquerade Party was another thing he was going to do for himself.

 

“Listen,” Nate said, “we can leave at any time. If you think shit’s about to hit the fan, we’ll go, okay? No arguments from me.”

 

Bellamy was on his phone. “I don’t believe you.”

 

“It’s true!”

 

“I need backup,” was all he said. “I don’t believe for one second that you would actually listen to me.”

 

“Who’re you calling?” Nate demanded. The more people who knew, the more complicated shit was.

 

Bellamy was already on the phone. “Reyes,” he said. “You free tonight?”

 

Nate scowled. Bellamy wasn’t wrong; he _would_ always listen to Raven, had ever since the one time he didn’t as a kid she kneed him in the balls.

 

“Yeah, just a costume,” Bellamy was saying. “And a mask. Great. We’re leaving now, is 20 minutes enough time? 10? You’re the best.”

 

“I hate you,” Nate growled.

 

“Nah, you don’t,” Bellamy assured him. “Now let’s go get you laid.”

 

“And _you_ a drink,” Nate said, feeling more magnanimous at Bellamy’s concession to be his wingman. “You deserve it.”

 

“That’s the only sensible thing that you’ve said all night,” Bellamy agreed.

* * *

**ii.**

“I guess I just don’t see what the big deal is,” Jasper said, rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. “You _like_ Harper, right? I mean, at one point you two even dated.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Monty responded, “but that was in high school, and it’s weird that my mom is trying to push us together, right?”

 

“It’s totally harmless,” Jasper insisted. “She’s like that Judge Judy meme where she’s banging her watch and banging on the table, and what she wants is grandkids.”

 

Monty made a face. “I’m twenty _five_!” He sputtered. “Is she crazy?”

 

“A little,” Jasper said, only slightly joking. “Plus she’s friends with Harper’s mom, right? Nia?”

 

Monty shuddered. “I’ve always been scared of her, a little bit.”

 

Jasper nodded. “She’s an Ice Bitch if I’ve ever seen one,” he said. “That woman gives me the creeps. Is she gonna be here tonight?”

 

“Yeah,” Monty said, “so steer clear.”

 

“Or, you know,” Jasper grinned, “I’ll give her the ol’ Han Solo charm.” He spun around in his Han Solo outfit, complete with a small Millennium Falcon clipped to his belt.

 

Monty snorted. “I doubt even the Force would save you,” he said.

 

“You could!” Jasper said, gesturing to the lightsaber clipped to Monty’s belt. “Luke Skywalker, you dashing man.”

 

“Mom’s gonna flip,” Monty said. “She wanted me to wearing this dumb Prince Charming costume, but… this is my first Masquerade since Dad died. I wanted to honor him with something that we both loved-- Star Wars.”

 

“I know,” Jasper said softly. “And that’s why I’m dressed as Han Solo--”

 

“Oh, _please,_ you begged me to be Han Solo when you found out I was going as Luke--”

 

“And Clarke and Wells are in on it, too.”

 

Monty gaped. “What?”

 

“Yeah, they’re going to be Finn and Rey, although I guess they were at the costume store a couple hours ago and were having trouble finding Rey costumes, but I _told_ them they should’ve gone earlier!”

 

“That’s really…” Monty’s touched. “Thank you.”

 

Jasper clapped a hand on Monty’s shoulder. “Of course. And hey, put it this way: even if your mom is pissed you’re in this nerdy get-up, it guarantees you won’t be getting laid tonight by Harper, who I bet you money is in a princess outfit.”

 

“Ugh,” Monty said. “I can’t believe my mom is trying to pimp me out.”

 

“Your mom is ruthless, man,” Jasper said, “we both know this.”

 

“And hey!” Monty protested. “I could get laid as Luke Skywalker.”

 

“Only if you meet someone as nerdy as you, sure,” Jasper said, “and that’s me, so sorry, you’re out of luck, kid.”

 

“Maya would be pretty jealous,” Monty smirked as they headed down to the party.

 

“God, I can only hope,” Jasper sighed. “What are the chances she’s going as Princess Leia?”

 

“Slim to none,” came a snappy voice. Monty and Jasper turned and gaped.

 

With white robes, her blonde hair pinned in two buns, and a scowl on her pretty face, Clarke Griffin looked like the epitome of Original Trilogy Princess Leia. “They were all out of Rey costumes,” she said, “and there were a shit ton of these ones left. Hell, even all of the General Organa ones were sold out!”

 

“Girls are probably tired of being sexualized by Nerd Boys when they wear them,” Wells said unhelpfully from behind her. He found a Finn costume just fine. Clarke whirled around to scowl at him and he winced. “Unfortunately they don’t really carry Lando Calrissian costumes,” he explained to Monty, “otherwise I would’ve liked to have kept us all to the Original Trilogy.”

 

“You guys,” Monty’s smile was so wide that even Clarke’s scowl melted away. “I can’t believe you did this for me.”

 

Clarke sighed, but she had a smile on her face as she whipped out a white mask, dotted with small crystals, and tied it on. “Anything for you, Monty,” she said. Clarke and Wells came from old, prestigious families, who, while they dabbled in investments, mainly stuck to politics. The Griffin and Jaha families were supposedly neutral in the Green/Miller feud, but Clarke and Wells went to the same primary and secondary schools as Monty, so naturally they were closer.

 

“These masks clash with our outfits,” Jasper grumbled as he begrudgingly put his on.

 

“If you want to face Mrs. Green’s wrath, be my guest,” Wells said, taking out his own mask from his pocket.

 

“Better hers than Nia’s,” Jasper grumbled.

 

“And I think Echo will be here, too,” Monty grimaced, referring to Nia’s eldest daughter.

 

Clarke made a face. “I hate that bitch,” she said.

 

“Roan’s not half-bad,” mused Wells on Nia’s son.

 

“Harper’s still the nicest,” Clarke said, “I just wish she would get the hint that Monty isn’t interested anymore.”

 

“You and me both,” Monty sighed. “Just-- keep her away from me, if you can.”

 

“And keep Clarke away from Echo,” Wells said.

 

“Why are we going to this again?” joked Jasper.

 

“Because of family,” Monty said, putting his mask on. “Family above all. That’s what Dad used to say, anyway.”

* * *

**iii.**

At the party, to Nate’s delight, he found Bryan Farmer pretty quickly-- to Nate’s dismay, despite the flirty texts the two had been exchanging for the past few weeks since randomly running into each other at a coffee shop-- Bryan’s tongue was halfway down someone else’s throat.

 

“Well, fuck,” Nate swore.

 

“Can we go home now?” Bellamy asked.

 

“Oh, hell, no,” Raven insisted, stubbornly keeping her pilot helmet on, a part of her costume, but visor raised. “We’re getting drunk instead. We didn’t come all the way here to just turn back.”

 

“You’re my favorite,” Nate said, already eyeing the bar.

 

“We can’t get too drunk,” Bellamy lectured. “We get too sloppy.”

 

Raven rolled her eyes. “Blake, do you even know _how_ to have fun?” She demanded.

 

Bellamy started to get into it, and Nate, seeing the distraction for what it was, mentally thanked Raven and slipped away.

 

He ordered two drinks at the bar-- one for him and one for Raven, just to fuck with Bellamy-- and waited. Someone came up next to him and smiled at him. “Robin Hood, huh?” He asked. “Nice. I hear the good silver’s just in the next room over.”

 

Nate blinked in surprise. The guy-- with dark, shaggy hair, dressed as Luke Skywalker-- had a nice smile. Nate smiled back.

 

“Rum and coke,” Luke Skywalker nodded. “Good choice. Don’t do the signature cocktail, has too much mint in them.”

 

“You can never have too much mint,” Nate grinned. “Just like you can never have too much silver.”

 

Luke laughed. “You’ve got me,” he said. He licked his lips and looked out among the crowd. It was a huge home, and people were everywhere, from the ballroom below, to the upper levels that overlooked it, spilling onto stairways and out of balconies and doorways to the backyard. He looked back with a rueful grin at Nate. “I’d ask you to dance, but you’ve got your drinks.”

 

Nate looked at his drinks and then at the man next to him. “I think I’d rather have the dance,” he said, delighted when the other man flushed.

 

“Great,” Luke said, “let’s--”

 

“Hey, you,” out of nowhere, Harper McIntyre breezed up, and Nate had to turn away from her to his drinks. He and Harper vaguely knew each other because her mother, Nia, did business with his father. What the hell was she doing here? “Wanna dance?”

 

“Hey, Harper,” Luke said, and although he was nice enough to her, Nate definitely got the vibe that he was uncomfortable. “Actually, I was--”

 

“Go ahead,” Nate said gruffly, trying to make his voice less recognizable. He adjusted his Robin Hood cap so it shadowed more of his face, and kept his eyes down. “I’ll give these drinks to my friends and I can have the next dance.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Positive.” He couldn’t help it-- his eyes darted up to meet Luke’s. “You can find me by the China cabinet, where the silver’s kept.”

 

Luke blinked, and then he laughed. He was still laughing as Harper guided him away, and Nate slumped in relief.

 

He straightened and went to deliver the drinks to Raven and Bellamy, but he couldn’t find them, so he downed one of the rum and cokes and left the other on a table. (He wanted to feel _good_ when he danced with Cute Luke Skywalker, not sloppy.) Unable to help himself, he found a position near to the dance floor and looked on as Luke awkwardly danced with Harper, who was dressed in a gorgeous princess gown.

 

Luke caught his eye once and smiled, and Nate could feel himself smiling back. He couldn’t help it; sure, he had come to this party trying to hook up with Bryan Farmer, but this guy was a helluva lot cuter and shit, maybe things were going his way, after all.

 

Harper reluctantly let Luke go, and he came toward him, hand outstretched, and Nate crossed over and took it. He felt it, then-- not so much a spark of electricity, but his heart started to pound and his stomach dropped, and it was like he was on the edge of a roller coaster right before the fall.

 

Luke squeezed his hand; he felt it, too.

 

The song was upbeat, fast, and there wasn’t time to talk among the laughing, the spinning, the jumping, and Nate kept trying to make sure his mask was on securely. Hannah Green was rumored to be an uptight hardass, but at least she had the sense to hire a decent DJ.

 

“What’s your name?” Luke shouted, and Nate had to pause.

 

“Julian,” he said finally. Being in the Green House… he couldn’t help but think of his mother. “You?”

 

He gave him an odd look, but answered anyway. “Monty!” he said over the noise. “I’m Monty.”

 

The dance ended, but before Nate could feel too awkward about it-- should he leave? Should he stay and play it off?-- Monty took his hand and led him off the ballroom floor, up the stairs, shoving past people, twisting through the hallways, and Nate started to panic, slightly. Where was he taking him? But Monty pushed open a door-- into a bedroom-- it must’ve been Monty’s, he must’ve been a guest here-- but he didn’t stop at the bed, didn’t pause as he led him across the room to another door, glass, latched, onto a small balcony.

 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Monty said, running his hands through his hair, and his grin was sheepish. “It was so loud and there and we-- it’s quieter here.”

 

Nate relaxed as he looked out; the balcony overlooked the lush grounds he vaguely remembered from childhood-- a pool, half-hidden by the trees and gardens, wound through the property like a river. There was a good amount of people outside, mingling, talking, a few even daring to swim in the pool, but if the noise in the ballroom was like a roar, then this was a murmur, a distant hum.

 

Nate looked over at Monty, who smiled at him. “We can go back if you want,” he said softly. “I should’ve asked--”

 

“No,” Nate said lowly. Alone time with Monty-- nothing sounded more appealing. “No, this is perfect.”

 

Monty’s smile widened. “Yeah,” he said. “It really is, isn’t it?”

* * *

**iv.**

Monty had never met anyone like Julian.

 

To be fair, his life had been fairly sheltered. He had left Arcadia for college, like many of the well-off children, but he hadn’t gone too far-- his mother couldn’t bear it. His friend circle had always been small, intimate, and he was just starting to figure out his sexuality, had just been exploring the idea that he liked both men and women.

 

(If he had any lingering questions as to whether he was attracted to men as much as he was attracted to women, well… Julian answered all of them.)

 

Monty understood that people were complicated, that people were multi-faceted and had layers, but no one had fascinated him like Julian. When they met, he had seemed unattainable-- cool, sexy, calmly and utterly confident in a way that Monty never could be-- but the way he had faltered at Harper’s presence, the flash of sadness as he gave his name, the way he clutched Monty’s fingers when he was pulling them through his house-- gave Monty a taste as to who this person was beyond the surface level charm and swagger. Monty wanted to know more; he wanted to know _everything_.

 

He also sensed that Julian hadn’t been expecting the bedroom, and well, while _that_ might’ve been nice, that wasn’t necessarily what Monty brought him upstairs for, and he wanted to put him at ease, so he began to ask Juilan casual questions, and it wasn’t long before the two had the easy rapport of people who had known each other for much longer than one night.

 

Like Monty, Julian was an only child and lived with one parent. He’d left Arkadia for college and, after getting his BA and MFA, only recently returned home.

 

“Recite me some poetry,” Monty said eagerly. “It doesn’t-- it doesn’t have to be yours, if you don’t want it to be. But I’m sure you have your favorites memorized.”

 

Julian broke eye contact, his long lashes even more mesmerizing up close. Monty wondered if the rest of his face under that mask was just as handsome-- he had the feeling it was. “Maybe,” he said. Then he glanced up, his shy smile turning mischievous. “You might have to earn it.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” Monty said, willing his voice not to shake. “How do I do that?”

 

Julian licked his lips. “You’re a smart guy,” Julian murmured. “Went off to an Ivy League school… graduated top of your class in biochem… I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

 

Monty swallowed; he’d never initiated something like this, but, _well_ , Julian wouldn’t be looking at him the way that he was, and swaying every so slightly closer like he was, if he didn’t want Monty to _do_ something about it.

 

Monty reached up, putting his hand behind Julian’s head, his fingers splayed at the base and at his neck, and drew him closer. Julian dipped his head and their lips touched.

 

The kiss was light, exploratory, completely at odds with the way Monty _felt_ , his stomach swooping, his heart racing, a gasp lodged in his throat. His fingers on the back of Julian’s head spasmed, then tightened, and Julian took it as a cue to part his lips further, to angle his jaw, to touch his tongue to Monty’s.

 

That _did_ make Monty gasp, and Monty could feel the corners of Julian’s mouth quirk smugly, so Monty curved his other hand around Julian’s waist to pull him closer in retaliation.

 

If only he could freeze this moment in time, Monty thought deliriously, if only it never had to end…

 

All too soon, as if his thoughts summoned an intervention, Julian’s phone began buzzing through his pocket, incessantly enough that Monty knew that it was a call, not a text.

 

Julian swore, breaking the kiss as he fumbled for the phone. “Hello?” He croaked.

 

“Time’s up.” Monty heard the other voice on the line-- deep and male-- say. “We gotta go; now. Where are you?”

 

“I’ll meet you at the front door,” Julian said in lieu of answering. “Five minutes.”

 

“Good.”

 

Julian hung up, his expression tight enough that Monty began to feel tense himself. “Something wrong?”

 

Julian shook his head. “My friend is… slightly overprotective. A worrier. And someone who needs to get up early for work tomorrow, so he agreed to be DD only as long as he got to choose when we left.”

 

“Fair enough,” Monty said lightly, even if he didn’t totally buy Julian’s explanation. “But before you go…” He plucked Julian’s phone out of his hand and put his number in, labeling himself simply as “Monty” with a green heart after his name. He gave Julian his phone so he could put his number in as well. 

 

“Great,” Julian grinned, and he leaned in to give Monty one last kiss. “Guide me out of here?”

 

“Of course,” Monty said, grabbing Julian’s hand and lacing their fingers together.

 

They left the room, winding down the hallways, pausing every so often to kiss, and Monty dreaded every step as they could hear the crowds becoming louder and louder.

 

To his dismay, the moment they ascended the stairs, Jasper found them. “Monty!” He said. “Where have you been? Your mom’s been looking everywhere for you.” He blinked at Julian. “Hello,” he said. He looked at their hands and smirked. “Well, well, well…. And who are you?”

 

Julian raised his eyebrows. “Julian,” he said. “And who are you?”

 

“Just Monty’s best friend since birth,” Jasper drawled.

 

“Jasper,” Monty said, exasperated. “Be cool.”

 

Julian squeezed his hand. “I’ve gotta go,” he said. “Talk to you later?”

 

“Yeah,” Monty said, feeling something inside him warm at the thought. “Definitely.”

 

One side of Julian’s mouth quirked up in a smirk, but he didn’t say anything else and left, heading for the front door.

 

“Come on, lover boy,” Jasper said, throwing his arm around Monty’s shoulders. “Let’s go see your mom.”

 

Monty tried not to groan. He looked over his shoulder to see if he could catch one last glimpse of Julian, but it was too late-- he was already gone.

* * *

**v.**

Nate was riding on a high as he made his way to the grand entrance of Green House. He didn’t think, even if he _had_ hooked up with Bryan Farmer, that his night could’ve gone any better than it did tonight.

 

Monty was… Monty was nothing that Nate had ever expected, and some part of him was alarmed at how quickly they connected, how strongly Nate already felt for him, but it was hard to reign in his feelings given that they were mirrored in Monty, whose bright dark eyes shone when they looked at him, whose hands felt right in his own, whose smile was brighter than anyone or anything in that glittering mansion.

 

And it wasn’t just that Nate was physically attracted to Monty. When they had talked, discussing their backgrounds and lives, he felt a connection of their minds as well, a complement between them-- Nate, cynical yet poetic, Monty, earnest yet logical. Nate was intrigued, was fascinated, was hungry for more.

 

His high quickly faded upon reaching the front doors and seeing Bellamy and Raven. To Nate’s surprise, Bellamy’s expression was stony and hard when he saw him, and even Raven was solemn, fingers curled into a brown leather jacket that Nate swore she hadn’t been wearing earlier over her Poe Dameron orange flight suit.

 

“What--” Nate started to say.

 

“ _Not here_ ,” Bellamy said sharply.

 

Nate fell silent as they trudged to the car, and no one spoke until the Green House was out of sight.

 

“Do you do this shit to test me?” Bellamy asked. His voice was rough and tired and sad.

 

Nate frowned. “What?” He thought for a moment what he possibly could’ve done to get Bellamy this upset. “Listen, I know I disappeared, but when I came back from the bar you two were gone, so--”

 

“I saw who you came downstairs with,” Bellamy cut him off. “ _Montgomery Green_ , Nate? Really? Do you have a fucking death wish?”

 

Nate froze. “What?” He rasped.

 

Bellamy glanced over, his mouth sneered in incredulity, although it faded a bit when he saw Nate’s expression. “You really didn’t know?” He said.

 

“He-- we never took off our masks,” Nate said, thinking aloud. Nate’s covered half his face, and between his long fringe and his own mask, Monty’s face was mostly hidden as well-- not to mention the fact that he had long forgotten what the Green heir looked like; Nate wasn’t one for social media, and had little to no interest in the Green family’s lives. That was his father’s area of expertise. “And he just told me his name was Monty.”

 

Nate felt like his chest had seized up, like his heart had stopped for a moment and was now beating to a new rhythm, out of sync. Out of everyone in the world who he could have met tonight, who he could have become infatuated with… Nate felt something inside of him fracture and break, the dream of what could have been, a chance with Monty.

 

“Whatever happened,” Raven piped up, and her tone was soft, sympathetic. Sad. “You know that you can’t see him again, right?”

 

Nate’s phone lit up. _Monty with a Green Heart._

 

“ _Hi_ ,” the message read.

 

“Yeah,” Nate said tonelessly, powering down his phone. He shifted towards his window so Bellamy couldn’t look at him. “I know.”

 

No one said anything else the rest of the way home.  



	2. Act II

**i.**

“There you are,” Hannah Green said, relief visible on her face when she saw Jasper and Monty. To Monty’s confusion, his mother wasn’t in the thick of the party but rather in her study, an ornate, intimidating room that she had once shared with his father. In Monty’s memories the room was warmer, cozier than how it was now.

 

Monty frowned. He expected to face his mother’s wrath for disappearing, not _this_. “Hey,” he said. “What’s going on?”

 

“There was a breach in security,” Hannah said tersely. “Some unwanted people were here.”

 

Monty swallowed. “Unwanted?”

 

“Apparently Nathan Miller and some of his friends were here,” said Charles Pike, his mother’s head of security and right-hand man, said grimly, looking at him intently. “They didn’t cause any trouble, and have already left, but we wanted to make sure you were okay.”

 

“You could’ve texted,” Monty said, thinking of the text he just shot off to Julian, willing his cheeks not to flush.

 

Hannah’s lips quirked. “I wouldn’t say that I was thinking rationally at the time,” she said, and Monty’s heart went out to her. “But I’m glad you’re okay.”

 

“How did we know it was them, anyway?” Monty asked curiously. He had grown up hearing about how evil the Miller’s were, and how they were responsible for his father’s death. As a child he had believed in the way that all children believed their mothers-- wholeheartedly, yet with distance and a true lack of understanding; as an adult, while he was in college, he remembered on the anniversary of his father’s death, going online on a whim and looking up all of the newspaper articles and reports that came out when his father, and then Julia Miller, died. He remembered everything his mother told him, as well, and after hours and hours of research, had concluded that he no longer shared Hannah’s unwavering faith in the crimes of the Miller family. Ever since then, he wasn’t even convinced that the Miller’s were directly responsible for the death of Christopher Green, especially since, according to his mother, the Green’s hand nothing to do with Julia Miller’s death. (That Monty still believed to be true. There were just some things he believed about his mother and she had known Julia Miller, had _liked_ her, was friends with her. No matter what she felt toward David Miller he couldn’t believe that she would’ve harmed Julia.)

 

Going to college away from Arcadia had helped distance himself from the feud, from his rigid identity as the Green heir. It helped that his counterpart, Nathan Miller, heir to the Miller business, did the same, and had kept out of the fray and fighting. Their parents and associates weren’t innocents, but Nathan and Monty, currently, chose to be.

 

“Harper told me,” Hannah said. “She also said,” she paused and Monty felt something in his stomach drop at her tone. “She told me that she saw you talking-- and dancing-- with Nathan Miller himself. He was in a Robin Hood costume, apparently.” She peered at him. “Is this true? What did he say to you?”

 

Monty froze. “What?”

 

“You didn’t know,” Hannah said, looking relieved. “I thought not.” She turned to Pike. “Monty’s a good boy. He would never knowingly speak to a Miller.”

 

“He-- we didn’t,” Monty couldn’t form proper sentences. _Julian was Nathan Miller_. Julian… Julia. Julia Miller. Monty felt sick. Was he just playing a game with him? “Of course I didn’t know.”

 

Hannah frowned, seeing Monty’s expression. “What did he do?” She demanded.  


“Nothing!” Monty said, trying not to think about Julian-- _Nathan_ ’s soft brown eyes, or his hands, or the way he smiled at him… “He was perfectly nice. And I asked _him_ to dance. I approached him while he was at the bar. He was polite. I don’t--” here he faltered, remembering Nathan asking him his name. Did he really not know? Or was that a lie, too? “I don’t think he even knew who I was.”

 

Pike snorted. “Don’t be naive, Monty,” he said. “Of course he did.” He turned to Hannah. “I wonder if they’re planning something, casing the house. We need to tighten security, change the codes.”

 

Hannah nodded and Monty swallowed. If that were true, it would be his fault. _He was the one who led Nathan through the house to his bedroom._

 

“He was here with other people?” Monty said hoarsely. One of them was the voice on the other line of Nathan’s call. Monty frantically thought about what he heard. Was Nathan lying to him then as well? The call itself was fairly innocent, but abrupt. _Time’s up._ What were the _friends_ doing while Nathan distracted Monty?

 

“Two others,” Pike said. “We deduced that they’re Bellamy Blake and Raven Reyes. Blake works for David Miller, but Reyes doesn’t, although from what I’ve heard not from lack of trying on the Miller’s part.”

 

Monty swallowed. “And what were they doing?” He asked.

 

Pike frowned. “Nothing suspicious,” he said. He looked beyond Monty and Monty heard the doors open behind him. “Wells and Clarke can tell us,” he said, waving a hand. “Apparently Reyes and Blake spent their time with them.”

 

“What?” Monty said, turning around. Clarke looked flushed, her buns in slight disarray. Wells looked like his usual self, although Monty noticed his Finn jacket-- brown, ‘leather’-- was gone.

 

“That’s who I spent this party arguing with?” Was Clarke’s question. “Bellamy Blake?”

 

“Apparently,” Hannah said. “Did he say or do anything suspicious?”

 

“Besides having terrible opinions about literature and pop culture,” Clarke said, scowling, “no, not really.”

 

Wells observed her agitation for a moment before turning his attention to everyone else. “Neither did Raven Reyes,” he said, and was Monty imagining the hitch in his voice as he said her name? “We danced, and talked, and it was fine.”

 

“Were you all in a group or separate?” Pike demanded.

 

“All together at first,” Clarke said. “Wells commented on her costume-- she went as Poe Dameron, from Star Wars-- and then they went to dance, leaving Blake and I alone.”

 

“Were you with them both the entire time?” Hannah asked.

 

Wells nodded.

 

“Basically,” Clarke agreed. “I think he left me just to leave the party. We, uh, got into a big argument, and he was basically done with it. He was pulling out his phone and calling someone as he was walking away.”

 

“What did he say?” Monty said, trying not to appear too eager.

 

“I didn’t hear the whole conversation,” Clarke said, “but he began by saying, ‘Time’s up.’ to someone.”

 

Monty willed his face not to change. So Bellamy Blake was the one who called Nathan, and it wasn’t because he was done casing the house; he just got fed up with Clarke. It would be funny if it wasn’t such a relief; by all accounts, all three of them perfectly innocent.

 

“Even if Blake and Reyes were accounted for,” Pike said, “that doesn’t account for where Miller was.” He looked at Monty. “Where was he after your dance?”

 

He willed Jasper, who was silent next to him, not to say anything, like how he saw Nathan and Monty come downstairs, hand in hand.

 

But Jasper did. “He was talking to me,” Jasper lied smoothly. “I was teasing him about his dance with Monty after Monty left to go to the bathroom.”

 

“And?” Pike said.

 

“He was fine,” Jasper said. “Maybe a little annoyed at me, but he kept his cool well enough.”

 

Monty could’ve kissed him. “We’re sure it was just the three of them?” He asked aloud, trying to steer the conversation away from Nathan.

 

Grimly, Hannah nodded. “As far as we know,” she said, sharing a look with Pike, who nodded.

 

“Then why were they here?”

 

“They’re kids, like us,” Jasper interjected. “Come on, sneaking into a party you shouldn’t be at? Why the hell not?”

 

Pike glared at Jasper for daring to suggest such a thing, but didn’t contradict him.

 

“So everything’s fine?” Monty said, looking at his mother. “No harm, no foul, right?” _Please don’t do anything stupid over this_.

 

Hannah’s lips pursed, but she nodded. “I suppose not,” she said. She looked at him anxiously again. “As long as that Miller boy didn’t harm you in any way.”

 

“No,” Monty said, feeling his phone in his pocket. It hadn’t buzzed at all. “He didn’t.”

 

* * *

 

**ii.**

A couple hours later, the phone was still silent. Monty willed himself not to check it as he spoke with Wells, Clarke, and Jasper.

 

“So, Bellamy Blake, huh?” Jasper asked Clarke. “I hear he’s a hothead. True?”

 

“True,” Clarke said shortly. “I don’t want to talk about it, though.”

 

Monty eyed her; she looked the way that he felt. He wondered…

 

“And Raven Reyes?” Jasper moved on to Wells. “She is so freaking hot.”

 

“She’s gorgeous,” Wells said flatly. “Really smart. Funny. Sharp.” He hadn’t spoken much since after Pike and Hannah dismissed them. They were holed up in Monty’s room. The party was still raging on downstairs, but no one, even Jasper, felt much like celebrating, although they did snag a bottle of wine to share.

 

Jasper wisely moved on, and Monty tensed as his eyes landed on him. “And then, of course, there’s Nathan Miller.”

 

Clarke and Wells perked up at this. “Yeah, how was he?” Clarke said, eager for the change in subject. “I haven’t seen him since his high school graduation party.”

 

“What did you think of him then?” Monty asked curiously.

 

Clarke shrugged. “Good enough guy. Quiet, kind of grumpy and sarcastic. Was always reading. Right?” She asked Wells.

 

Wells nodded. “Yeah, basically,” he said. “He’s a good guy.” He looked a little sad. “They all seemed like good people.”

 

Jasper said softly, “I’m sorry.” But he was looking at Monty.

 

“He was…” Monty murmured. “He was great.”

 

“It can never happen,” Clarke said firmly, but her voice cracked slightly on the word ‘never.’

 

“I know,” Monty said, thinking about Nathan’s lips on his, his hands on his face. “You don’t have to-- I know.”

 

But lying in bed that night, the faint murmurs of the last guests still reaching his ears, he had to know the truth for sure, if Nathan Miller was as innocent as Monty hoped he was, if the connection between them was as genuine as Monty wanted it to be.

 

 _Just this_ , Monty thought as he pulled his phone out. _Just this and I’ll be done._

 

Before he typed anything else into the message box (his “hi” still a lonely sight,) he edited the contact name, furiously deleting _Julian_ and typing in, simply, _Nathan_.

 

He texted him, simply: _Nathan Miller_ and nothing else.

 

And then he waited.

 

Not five minutes later, his phone buzzed.

 

 _Montgomery Green_ , it read.

 

**From Monty**

_Why?_

 

**From Nathan**

_Why what?_

 

**From Monty**

_Why were you at the party?_

_Why did you kiss me?_

_Why me?_

 

He didn’t answer for a while, and Monty thought that that was it, that he scared him away, but then--

 

**From Nathan**

_I went because a friend was there_

_I stayed because of you_

 

And then,

 

**From Nathan**

_I didn’t know who you were_

_I know there’s nothing I could say to convince you_

_But it’s true_

 

**From Monty**

_I believe you_

 

Rationally, Monty knows he’s gotten what he wanted, a declaration of innocence. And he believes him, because the alternative, the malicious narrative that his mother and Pike wanted to set, didn’t make sense. It wasn’t real.

 

Monty believed in cold logic and practicality; they grounded him and set his world views. He prided himself on being clear-headed and pragmatic, which was why he knew that he needed to walk away now; delete Nathan Miller’s number from his phone, and just revel in this one perfect night with that beautiful man who genuinely liked him, too. When Clarke told him that nothing could happen, when he agreed with her, it wasn’t just to placate her. He knew it, too.

 

His phone buzzed.

 

**From Nathan**

_Names like pain cries, names_

_Like tombstones, names forgotten and reinvented,_

_Names forbidden and overused._

 

Monty paused. What the fuck?

 

And the texts kept coming in rapid succession:

 

_Your name like_

_A song I sing to myself, your name like a box_

_Where I keep my love, your name like a nest_

_In the tree of love, your name like a boat in the_

_Sea of love-- O now we’re in the sea of love!_

 

_I’m saying your name_

_In the grocery store, I’m saying your name on_

_The bridge at dawn._

 

_Names of poison, names of_

_Landguns, names of places we’ve been_

_Together, names of people we’d be together._

_Names of endurance, names of devotion,_

_Street names and place names and all the names_

_Of our dark heaven crackling in their pan._

_It’s a bed of straw, darling. It sure as shit is._

 

The texts stopped and Monty devoured the lines as they came in, his breathing growing labored and hoarse as he did. He could feel his heart pounding. He wasn’t sure what it all _meant_ , he wasn’t sure what to think, but god, did he _feel_.

 

And then,

 

**From Nathan**

_Saying Your Names - Richard Siken_

_That’s the poem those lines are from_

 

_I never got to recite to you my favorites_

_This is one of them_

 

Monty wanted to cry. Nathan remembered; the night meant something to him, too.

 

**From Monty**

_Thank you_

_I love it_

 

_It all comes down to those fucking names, doesn’t it_

 

**From Nathan**

_Yeah_

_It does_

 

**From Monty**

_I wish it didn’t_

_I wish_

 

He stopped typing, not wanting to finish the thought, but he accidentally hit send, cursing as he watched the message go through. Nathan responded:

 

**From Nathan**

_You wish what?_

 

Wishing didn’t hurt, right? Neither did telling him.

 

**From Monty**

_I wish I could see you again_

 

**From Nathan**

_Me, too_

 

Monty stood staring at the screen, willing himself to close the app, to power down his phone, to just _walk the fuck away_ like he knew he was supposed to, but he couldn’t.

 

He kept staring at his phone, waiting for Nathan to respond, but he didn’t, to Monty’s disappointment. He kept the phone on next to him on his bed, and fell asleep with it still in his hand.

 

* * *

 

**iii.**

“You idiot,” Nate cursed softly to himself. “You motherfucking piece of shit. You moron. You imbecile. You fucking waste of space, what the flying _fuck_ are you doing?”

 

Driving down a winding road that would lead him to Monty Green’s fucking fortified palace, that’s what he was doing.

 

It was reckless and impulsive and so _stupid_ that Nate kept expecting that to wake up, that it was all a dream, and yet here he was, having snuck out of his house, crept downstairs into the garage to take out his beat-up black civic (his father kept insisting on buying him another car, but Nate liked the anonymity that his nondescript car gave him), and make his way into enemy territory.

 

What was he thinking? Well, that would imply that he was thinking at all, which Nate knew he _wasn’t_ \-- just because Monty didn’t seem to be mad at his earlier deception didn’t erase the fact that he somehow found out who Nate was in the first place, which undoubtedly meant that Hannah Green and her lackey Charles Pike knew as well.

 

It was just-- despite all of that, he wanted to see Monty again. And Monty wanted to see him. And, well, he figured that even if Hannah Green and Charles Pike knew who he was, they would never expect him to come back the same night, would they?

 

He parked his car a few blocks away from the estate, and as he walked toward the house he noticed that there were still a few people lingering around the house. It was easy enough, in their drunken revelry, to snatch up someone’s discarded costume here, someone’s forgotten mask there, and dart around to the back gardens.

 

Nate might’ve been an idiot, but he wasn’t so stupid as to try and sneak _into_ the Green house, so he tried to figure out which window belonged to Monty. It took a few minutes, but when he thought he had it figured out, he pulled out his phone, hesitating over the call button. It was likely that Monty was asleep by now-- it was three in the morning or so-- but he didn’t really come all this way just to chicken out now?

 

He pressed call.

 

It took a few rings, but eventually he heard a groggy, “Nathan?” and perhaps it was the adrenaline or the anticipation, but Nate’s knees almost _buckled_ at the sound of Monty saying his real name.

 

Nate licked his lips. “Hi,” he said.

 

“Hey,” Monty said softly. “Not that I don’t love the fact that you called, but--”

 

“Look outside.”

 

A pause. “What?”

 

“Look outside,” Nate said clearly. He kept his eyes on Monty’s window, and sure enough, he could see the curtains being flung back. He couldn’t see the expression on Monty’s face, but there he was, looking out at him.

 

“What are you doing here?” Monty gasped.

 

“What does it look like?” Nate said, a smirk on his lips that Monty couldn’t see, but could hear. “I’m making your wish come true.”

 

Monty exhaled. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “Are you-- are you crazy? What if Pike catches you? Or my _mother_?”

 

“I’m in costume,” Nate said, “and they would never expect me to come _back_ , would they?” He assumed it was them who told Monty who he really was.

 

“That’s true,” Monty said thoughtfully. “They know you’re bold, but not _that_ bold.”

 

“Do I get a reward?” Nate asked.

 

“A reward?”

 

“For my boldness,” Nate said. “Do I get a reward for coming back?”

 

Monty laughed. “What do you want?”

 

“Come outside and I’ll give you a clue.”

 

Another laugh. Nate felt so light; coming back was the right decision. “I’ll be right there,” Monty promised.

 

They hung up and Nate tried his best to look like any guest, snagging an abandoned, half-drunk glass of champagne and trying to divide his time between casually pretend texting and making sure Hannah Green or Charles Pike weren’t skulking around.

 

Soon enough, he could hear Monty coming toward him, footsteps muffled by the grass, and Nate kept his head down, giving Monty the illusion that he was sneaking up on him.

 

The joke was on him, though, because without preamble Monty pulled Nate’s phone down, cupped his face, and kissed him.

 

Nate inhaled sharply in surprise, but he quickly pocketed his phone, bringing his arms around Monty and holding him tightly as he kissed him back deeply.

 

As he drove to Monty’s house Nate had told himself, between berating himself, that this was a one-time thing, a memory to complete the night. He wanted to be with Monty just once and have him know Nathan completely-- no secrets, no lies, no walls. He had believed it to be the truth; he might’ve been sentimental and dreamy-eyed sometimes, but he wasn’t in the habit of lying to himself.

 

So he knew with certainty, holding Monty closer with one arm while digging his fingers into his hair with the other, easing his head back so he could trail kisses down his throat, that this wouldn’t be a one-time thing. He didn’t want to stop.

 

He didn’t think he was capable of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem Miller quotes to Monty is "Saying Your Names" by Richard Siken. SHOCKER. Richard Siken is my Minty poet; 10/10 would recommend

**Author's Note:**

> Just be glad I didn't name him "Montague Green" although I was reallllly fucking tempted.


End file.
